Dead Roses
by The Lady Avaritia
Summary: Two times Anko and Kakashi almost break it, and one time they actually do.   'Summer died,' he says, and he's pleased with his plausible enough answer. She nods numbly, vaguely aware that he's quoting one of his perverted novels.


**Title: Dead Roses**

**Rating: **T  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>general

**Characters**: Kakashi; Anko

**Summary: Two times Anko and Kakashi almost break it, and one time they actually do. 'Summer died,' he says, and he's pleased with his plausible enough answer. She nods numbly, vaguely aware that he's quoting one of his perverted novels.**

**Disclaimer: **disclaimed

**Author Note:**

**Author: **_Lady Avaritia_

The first time they fight the sun is up in the azure sky like some evil eye trying to burn up the universe. The air is still and every breath is like choking on a spoonful of molten iron. The air smells sweet of roses, and it's so disgustedly cloying it makes her want to gag. It's nearing the end of the July, and the heat is unbearable. Sweat drops glisten on their skin, and make the clothes cling to their bodies in an unpleasant manner. They walk hand in hand in the park. He'd like to suffocate the sun, to eclipse it, if only for a few seconds. She wants to burn as bright as any star.

'You don't love me anymore,' Anko remarks off handedly. She throws the words flippantly, and leaves them there on the fuming grey asphalt in the middle of the alley, where the children of Konoha play.

'You know I do,' Kakashi argues, and puts an arm around her waist. The kiss they share is enough to drive the rotteningly sweet taste of roses away. For the first time they feel nothing.

The second time they fight it's around the second week of August. Clouds, soft and grey like a whisper have covered the sun. The air is still hot and humid. Every breath take feels like swallowing a thick gulp of molten dark chocolate, right and suffocating at the same time. The heat lingered for too long this time, and it's making them both irate and easily angered. At least the scent of roses isn't there anymore to rot their teeth. Sweat drips down her back.

'You're not in love with me anymore,' she says softly, quietly as they watch a chubby child run after a dog twice his size.

'You know I love you,' he retorts, his one visible eye focused on her face, and he's so truthful it hurts.

'You love me,' she agrees because she has to give him that much, 'But you're not in love me.'

He doesn't bother to reply when the first drop of rain falls down.

The last time they fight it's already the first days of September. The sun is gentler now, like a lover's caress, and the clouds are thicker. The treetops are tinted with yellow and orange and red. It's beautiful in a sad, poetic way. They both know the end is coming soon. It's no longer hot, and she has no reason to be angry, or irritated. This time the rain comes faster, harsher, the fat drops of water beating down the still heated asphalt. The mothers shoo their children home.

'Come here Takeshi!'

'Let's go, Homura!'

'You'll get wet, Megumi!'

Anko stares blankly at the emptying park, her hair plastered to the side of her face, and thinks about another summer and another man.

'You are not in love with me anymore,' she says quietly, and he doesn't know who she's trying to convince.

'And you don't love me,' she continues, certainty in her voice.

'I'm sorry,' he says, and means it.

'What happened to us?' she asks.

He wants to tell her that's it's his fault, he does. He wants to tell her that he fell in love with her because she was beautiful, marvelous and strong, and because she was loud and confident. He fell in love with the woman she pretended to be. He fell in love with a façade, and he realized, soon enough, that he couldn't love her. Because in reality, she was beaten down, and desperate, and lonely. She'd been too real on him, and he hadn't been able to handle it. He wants to admit it's him and not her, or maybe blame somebody else entirely.

'Summer died,' he says, and he's pleased with his plausible enough answer.

She nods numbly, vaguely aware that he's quoting one of his perverted novels.

At least he has the decency to pretend.

'Yeah,' she agrees absent mindedly. 'It did, didn't it?'


End file.
